


Stolen Heart

by FreeTraderBeowulf



Category: The Magicians (TV), The Magicians - Lev Grossman
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Delinquents, F/M, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Teen Romance, queliot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-18 23:14:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20321119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreeTraderBeowulf/pseuds/FreeTraderBeowulf
Summary: Quentin Coldwater was presented with a choice, juvie, fines he couldn't pay, and a fuck-load of community service, or get sent of to a rehabilitation center for teenagers criminals and drug addicts. Quentin chose Brakebills, an asylum for the dammed.He meets Eliot Waugh, a shady and alluring personality who doesn't give Quentin a choice, he gives him a challenge. Quentin, a listless delinquent with a death wish, must come up with a reason for Eliot Waugh to live. Eliot will think of a reason to die, cause he wants to see what Quentins getting at. Their effort to understand each other spirals, and a story neither could have predicted ensues.





	Stolen Heart

Quentin's hair getting long now, it lung low past his ears. He played with it for awhile as he stared up at the ceiling. If he stared for long enough without blinking he could make himself see stars. It was almost amusing, it was at least something to combat the  _ crippling _ boredom. 

When Quentin had stepped into the common room he was wholeheartedly disappointed. The outside of Brakebills was old and rotting, ivy crawling up the walls poking out of cobbled footpaths. The inside had been enitirely gutted however, drab and sharp. The only exceptions were a few orental rugs that had no business being as nice as they were, and well, the people. While Brakebills may be a school, one Quentin happened to get thrown in, it was for delinquents, addicts, etc.. Quentin was one of them.

Instead of talking to the other students, or doing anything else otherwise useful, he held a book tightly in his hand. Fillory and Further, a famous fantasy series --that Quentin would adimatley proclaim wasn’t just for children--following WWII era British school children through their adventures in a magical land. The new copies of the books had been a parting gift from his Dad, one he  _ hadn't  _ appreciated. It hadn’t really softened the blow of being sent to well, here.

Just as he was about to sit down he felt a tap on his shoulder..

He was unkempt, skin sunken and pale, but had made an obvious effort to pull himself together, which was more than Quentin could say for himself. His features were to severe, like someone sculpting him had forgotten to smooth out the edges, so his cheeks and jaw looked jagged and dried out. It didn’t stop him from being pretty, despite the fact he would never smile.

"Hey, and wanna sit? Fogg told me to talk to you.” His accent was definitely southern or midwestern, but you could tell he made a conscious effort to hide it.

Quentin followed, his book squeezed tightly in his fist. The boys hips swayed a little when he walked, it had to have been on purpose, but Quentin could never tell if it was his attention such elections were meant to attract. He thought it best not to notice, even though it was quite clear he already had.

"What's your name?"

"Quentin Coldwater, yours?"

"Eliot Waugh."

Eliot chuckled, then a moment of silence. It was probably the point he should have asked something else, anything else, but it felt like his missed his chance, even if only by a few moments.

They sat in front of a window, there weren't any chairs, but they sat anyways. Fucking Brakebills.  _ Cheap bastards _ as Eliot vehemently referred to them as.

He just stared out the window, for no other reason than it was a nice break from the ceiling (Eliot didn’t feel inclined to give him an actual tour or anything), and Quentin wondered why he needed his company for such an activity. Maybe he was just expecting Quentin to be the one to make conversation. Either way he liked it, even though it felt stereotypically maudlin, and looking out the windows a certain way made it feel like everyone else was trapped inside the bars, and he was the only one who was free.

Eventually the retired their new rooms, with even more barred windows and no doors. Quentin unpacked his Fillory books, and that was about it.

***

The next day instead of getting ahead on homework or unpacking, which is what he should have done, Quentin and Eliot watched as rain runs down in snaking paths off the window-pane. They couldn't remember who started keeping score, but Eliot always seemed to place his finger on which ever was going to fall fastest, Quentin's attempts proved less successful. He just seemed to be stuck in the same place before spiraling down recklessly, but by that time Eliot had already reached the bottom.

His curls were watered down and patted flat today, and he wore the stuffy uniform better than anyone Quentin had seen and dear God was that a  _ pocket square _ .The facade was so carefully pinned together Quentin wondered how he managed, but everything about Eliot screamed strategic. That or any other euphemism for control freak.

"How long have you been here?" Quentin asked, unsure of exactly how far he was allowed to step, because every word spoken to Eliot felt like one to many.

"Second time around. Hoping to get out of here by the end of the year though. End of semester maybe, I want to get home before it starts to snow."

"Do you not like snow?"

"It has its charms."

Quentin nodded his head like he understood. He felt guilty lying, even if he didn't speak a word. He let it get to him.

"Why?" Quentin asked.

"Why what?"

"Do you like it? It just makes your socks mushy and forces you to shovel."

He pondered a moment, like no one had ever asked him such a question. Quentin knew what that felt like. If you're screwed up already, people don’t question progress, even the pretend kind. That or they decline to ask you at all. 

"I like how something so small and soft can become so cold and jagged at the same time. I have a friend, Margo, we would always make snowmen."

He spoke like his lines were rehearsed, like he spent a great deal of time thinking about what made certain things so wonderful. Quentin placed his finger on another raindrop, one high up in the clouds. His sleeve fell down when he did it, he hated it, and quickly tried to cover them again. He saw, he knew he did. That was if he hadn't already.

"Why did you never want to see snow again?" Eliot mused.

"I guess snows um.. pretty?" The gears churning in his head were pouring out smoke, he stopped trying. “Everything else was just so ugly.”

"So is that why you did it?"

"That wasn't the reason, or the whole reason. I'm not sure if there was a reason I can put into words. It's like when there's a word or name on the tip of your tongue? And-"

Quentin felt dumb after he said it, because he looked at him like he was. Like he had put more faith in him than that, and he had shattered it.

"Did you ever try, put it into words I mean?"

"I don't know. It wasn't like, on purpose really. Was just keeping sane you know, lost control of it. Went farther than I meant to. It looks worse than it is and it wasn’t a real attempt or? And it’s not my problem I guess..”

Quentin expected him to respond, but Eliot didn't. If Quentin was an honest he liked he didn't. It was better than empty words, promises he wouldn't keep. That emptiness in the air spoke so much more about him. He didn't feel guilty over the growing resentment towards everyone else.

"So what’s your deal then?" Quentin asked, quickly trying to divert the attention away from himself.

"What?"

"C’mon.” Quentin spat, that familiar anger bubbling up within him. He’d always prided himself on being (sotra) nice, albeit moderately socially maladjusted, but he was so mad at himself he’d lost the will to care. “You have your poison too. Tell me you  _ don’t _ have a death wish.”

"I’m sure I do." He said he said nonchalantly, but at the end of the word broke just a little bit. “Do a bit of soul searching, I’d come up with something.”

Quentin sat stunned for a moment, but that all it took for him to realize this was his version of those empty promises he expected from him. 

"It's not like it's going to change anything."

"Well, I bond fast, times an illusion. If a bet keeps you here it does so .." he said finally looking at him. "You need to think of a reason to live, pure good things. Sunshine and rainbows. In return, I pick something that makes me so miserable I think your moodiness is justified . We trade, maybe get a drink."

"Why do you care?" Quentin sulked "Your the one with something to lose here. Once something like that's in your head, it doesn't just go away."

"Bold of you to assume I’m all peachy keen to begin with. I don’t find you boring. This makes things even  _ less  _ boring."

"I'm just saying, if you start looking you may not like what you find."

"You seem sweet Coldwater, but I don’t need you protecting me." He said it fast, almost cutting him off. It was clear this was not the kind of thing Eliot did.

"So how long do we have?"

"Long as we need I think. Least until one of us ‘graduates’.”

"Okay. Then, we do something about it I guess.."

He nodded slowly, and Quentin couldn't tell if the weight of all of it was everything or nothing to him. He put him hand out for a handshake, it felt like a strangely formal punctuation to such an arbitrary compromise, but he liked it, it seemed like him.

They shook on it, then as if nothing had happened went back to watching the rain. Quentin made a mental note to return the pocket square he'd stolen from Eliot at some point.

_ *** _

It was easy for Quentin to forget while he was, or at least his situation. It was easy for him to pretend like that.

He was reading his book when a lady came to get him.

_ -Martin sat in the hut of a witch, her common room littered with what seemed to be a collection of odd pairings. An ornate desk full of drawers only to have a squeaking old stool to sit on. Old maps and scraps and earthen movie posters hung side by side on the walls. The woman in front of him seemed to be one himself. Her hair was grey and course but him skin soft and light. The only wrinkles she had were around her eyes, but they were so deep they resembled scars- _

She lead Quentin to an office with a big leather couch that if you sat in certain places it was like you were gonna sink right through. Quentin wasn’t a stranger to therapists offices, he’d been in and out of them since he was a kid. A lot more since he’d had to start cutting plea deals. Now he’s at Brakebills, which is just rehab with homework.

“Your doctor will be in a few minutes, you can read until he gets here if you want.”

The lady stayed with him, he knew he should probably talk to her, but he just sat there flipping through the pages, looking for that one moment he needed

_ -”I'm glad you made your way here, I'm sorry you were a bit, underdressed.” She said almost judgingly looking down at the soaking footprints he had left all over the floor. He’d stepped through the wardrobe and fell face first into the snow.” You're in Fillory, but you knew that. Tea?” _

_ He looked down at the steaming metal pot, the pot he hadn't noticed a moment before and nodded. _

_ The witch held her hands up across her face, twisting and bending her fingers in fantastic ways while muttering something under her breath. Then the teapot started to float in midair, the steam turning into hinds of smoking horses running in circles around their heads. Martin held his hand up to them just for them to dissolve as soon as they touched his fingers.- _

“Quentin!”

Quentin slammed the book quickly, nearly throwing it to the other end of the couch. He looked the man up and down as he caught his breath.

His smile was white, almost blindingly so, but Quentin could still see something stuck in his teeth. His beard shaved but his neck was still spattered with stubble. He was just holding it together. Desperately trying to undo his own damage but never getting it quite right.

“My names Dr. Fogg, you can call me that or Henry.”It was that forced kind of casual, the kind new teachers use on the first day of school before they lose hope. “So, your 16?”

“Yeah.”

He nodded and smiled, it felt inappropriate, even if it was an appropriate reaction. He kept making small talk, Quentin kept giving vague answers. He wanted to try, but not for the right reason.

“So tell me about your old school?”

“It was in Brooklyn. But I mostly take college classes now, they ran out of stuff to teach me I guess.”

“Your friends maybe?”

“I didn’t really have any. Not for awhile.”

“Did you before?”

“Yeah.”

“Who?”

“It doesn't make a difference, and the people I lyfted shit with weren't really friends. But like real, friends? Stuff happened.”

“It might make you feel better to talk about it.”

“I'm not telling you about Julia okay!”

As soon as he said it Quentin had to look away, embarrassed he had even let himself say her name. He let his fingers overlap and twist over themselves, contorting them into shapes he hoped would do anything.

“Okay okay, let's talk about something else right now. Your book, what's it about?”

“It's..there’s these kids and they get taken to Fillory which is like where all your dreams come true kinda. And Magic, its real. So these kids Jane and Martin-”

“That's cool, have you read it before?” 

Quentin scowled at being cut off. “More times than I know.”

“Why?” Quentin couldn't tell if it was apathetic or genuine interest, just another stepping stone.

“It feels like I'm in control.”

Dr. Fogg perked up a bit, like he was about to hear a line straight out of his textbooks. But Quentin was fine with that, he was fine if it wasn't Julia.

“That's what magic is. There's this scene..”

Quentin flipped through the new book frantically, annoyed by its emptiness, void of his colored notes and post-its. He supposed it was better than the copies covered in blood.

“Its when Martin is uh, talking with this witch he met in the Darkling Woods. She's saying that not everyone who knows how to do magic can, because it comes from pain? Like if you don't know what it's like to have no control, then you can't control anything yourself. That’s how I think of it.”

“So do you relate to that Quentin? Do you feel like you don’t have control.”

Quentin just huffed and crossed his arms, and for the rest of the session considered how much he'd be able to get away with here. He was angry, he had energy, and was a little high on his meds. Might as well milk that shit. Quentin Coldwater was in this for the long-haul. He managed to pocket some post-its on his way out.

***

When Quentin got out of therapy he went straight to the window, he waited for awhile but El didn't come 

He thought in that moment it was strange he called him El in his head and not Eliot. Everyone always called Julia Jules, but Quentin always called her Julia and nothing else. Her mom had liked it he supposed, she liked everything formal.

Another nurse came to get him a moment later, he didn’t want to go, he already felt tired. She had kind eyes and a cold smile, Quentin wasn't quite sure how she managed, because such things are usually the other way around.

“Quentin? Your going to meet some of your new classmates, we put you in small groups at the start of the semester.”

Quentin hated group therapy (it would never be referred to as such, even though it definitely was, just with occasional studying), it reminded him too much of the insufferable ‘support groups’ he’d been dragged to half his life. He followed her into a circular room with all dark wood paneling, a circle of kids looked him up and down. He had seen some of them before, but they had never spoken a word, Quentin was usually enough for himself. Here Eliot seemed to be the one exception.

He sat on a wooden chair with felt coverings over the nails, took in the human collage that surrounded him.

“I'm Josh, I tend to the school garden, my tomatoes are good as the shit that got you all here I swear!” 

Fogg glared at him. Quentin didn't grow attached, even though there was no doubt in his mind the kid had a weed patch somewhere.

“I'm Kady, and--Penny I swear to God!” The next girl yelled at the boy beside her in the circle, he was laughing with his hand over his mouth, and she seemed genuinely angry, Quentin didn’t know what for. You wouldn't expect it from her, she had a baby face and wild curls, seemingly soft around the edges.

“Kady, remember your exercises.” Said a man at the head of the circle, took a second for Quentin to realize it was Dr.Fogg.

The girl took several borderline comical breaths before speaking again. “Anger Management and Behavioral Problems.”

“You mean destruction of property.” The guy perked up. Kady kicked him in the shin.

“Penny, state mandated.”

“Penny..”

“I’m schizophrenic, think that’s what everyone needs to form an adequate impression.” he said it matter of fact, pursing his lips and leaning back into his chair.

“Alice.” the next girl said, spitting the word out, her eyes darting across their faces. Fogg didn’t force her to say anything else. Quentin wasn’t sure why that worried him.

Quentin adjusted himself in his chair. “Quentin, I uh. I.”

“Tried to off yourself?” Penny said. 

“Huh?” Quentin said tugging down his sleeves again.

“Takes one to know one.”

“Penny be nice to him.” Kady whined, kicking him in the shin, again. 

“One to talk you smashed a window at a Starbucks!”

Quentin made eye contact with Alice, briefly. They shared a moment, but Quentin still wanted Eliot to be here with him. But that made him to remember, it was easy to forget while he was sometimes, his reason, but he was reminded Eliot had one too.

***

_ He stared at them for a long while. Butterflies, their wings a spectacular display of oranges and yellows. He knew what he was trying to do, he also knew that it would probably never work. _

_ Martin let his fingers unful, clamp up and bend as far as they could. The way the Witch explained it was that there are strings holding everything together, you pull enough in the right way you can control things, like a puppet. He knew it was probably more complicated than that, but you don't need to know why the sun rises, only that it does. And he needed it, he needed magic so bad he was willing to believe in it. Easy to believe in as the sun. _

_ They fluttered about frantically in the jar crashing into its sides, bruising those beautiful wings. he just need to make then stop, just for a moment. _

_ Martin tried to imagine those strings spilling out from their wings, scattered with Jane’s hair in the wind, but all they did was fly faster. _

_ He squeezed his hand tighter, like getting a better grip on the reigns would give him more control. _

_ The wings flutter faster, so fast he could barely see if they were up or down. _

_ His hands shake, something holding him back. Then they fall into fist, He barely thought it, then watched as the butterflies wings crumple in on themselves, folding up like a discarded piece of paper, it reminded him of a day that seemed to be a million miles away. _

_ *** _

Quentin didn’t see Eliot for a bit, long enough to settle into his first classes. Long enough to ponder over stupid fluffy things to tell Eliot about.

When he came back he was different. Her hair just so slightly messy, Quentin didn't know why he noticed that first. His skin was sunken, and he now had a tube taped to him face and going up him nose, he fiddled with it as he walked it, gagging on it.

“El!” Quentin said a little to quickly. He looked relieved to see him, at least a little bit.

The nurse around him shoulder sent him in him way, Eliot and Quentin both subconsciously walking towards their window side meeting place. When they sat down neither said a word, for once, Quentin didn't like that.

“So Quentin, you found your reason yet?”

He glanced at him quickly before turning back towards the window. “No, you.”

“No.” He exhaled, closing his eyes, it pained him to say that. “Can you try, can you tell me about something happy?”

Quentin pondered a moment on the absurity of the situation, and the trust that seemed to come out of thin air. It didn't seem worth fighting.

“When I was a kid, my Dad would work until really late on Wednesdays, so I went to my friends house, Julia. I think she might have just felt bad for me after my Mom left. We hid under her Moms nice end table and drew a map of Fillory, like we were planning a trip.When we were done we had a flashlight and were reading my favorite chapter. It was about the Cozy Horse. It was a horse so big and broad you could fall asleep on her back, and her fur was made of velvet.”

I imagined it sometimes, when I was scared of the dark. My bed was the back of the Cozy Horse, and all the sounds in my closet would her great hooves scraping against the ground. I still think about it sometimes.”

Quentin didn't know why he said those words, or maybe he did, maybe he'd been planning it for a long time. He couldn't really tell. But he knew why he thought that one day, that one perfect day.

“El?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t want to play the stupid game anymore. Let’s just-”

“Oh please now your sentimental?”

“It’s not fair to you, I don’t even know what you did!-”

“Don’t talk to me about fair! Your here because you felt sorry for yourself and were fucking screaming for attention.”

“Eliot..”

“Just fuck off. Don’t talk to me in class.”

Eliot walked away, and Quentin felt a hole in his chest.

_ *** _

Over time Quentin fell into a routine. He showered more often then he needed to and finished as much of his homework as they would give him. (It really didn’t take long. They assumed his delinquent ass was still in Pre-Pre-Algebra). He could go to a real chair and pour over his pages, but he felt himself constantly glancing toward the Eliot at the window between classes. 

He watched everyone else too, perhaps out of sheer boredom. Alice would constantly adjust the plastic bowl of communal candy (plastic could be said of the bowl and its contents) while looking similarly frustrated over her completed worksheets. Kady would do yoga every morning that was supposed to “calm her” but every time she fell over she started to rip up the mat, there wasn't much left at this point. Quentin felt sympathy though, cause after what she’d confessed in a group session about her mother, made Quentin’s look like a damn saint.. even if he wished they didn’t have to pull Kady off Penny so often. And Penny would always watch the powerball numbers even though he didn't have a ticket.

Whenever he was sure no one was looking Quentin would try move a fancy pen (that he may or may not have nicked off his teachers desk) across the table with his mind. Some part of him acknowledged it was ludacris, but so much of him didn't want it to be. But every time he tried he believed a little less, reality weighing down on him like a sore muscle.

“Hi Quentin!” Alice quipped, he hadn’t realized she had snuck up on him.

“Oh, hey Alice.”

“Do you read anything else?”

She talked kind of funny, her voice soft and sore from disuse. In all honesty Quentin couldn’t remember her using any full sentences.

“I just uh, like them. They make it better.”

“Fillory.”

“Yeah.”

“My brother liked them, when he was little.”

“And you didn’t?”

“Growing up the last thing I wanted to read was fantasy.” She said taking a place next to him. She sat with her legs crossed, it was all rather delicate. She gave up after a bit when her ankle bracelet starting digging into her heel.

“Nice hardware.”

“I knew a girl who tried bedazzling hers. Didn’t go over well with her parole officer.”

Quentin laughed a little at that.

“Finally succumb to the tedium of pre-algebra and Gatsby?”

She collapsed dramatically over the chair. “Shouldn’t they be pushing us or something?”

“We did it at all. I think that’s far more than expected. And it’s better than juvie.”

“Suppose. I hate when it’s all girls.” She said wrinkling up her nose.

“Huh, I like girls more.”

Took Quentin less than a second to realize how creepy it sounded.

“Not that I’m uh.. I mean I like boys too not, well I do  _ like _ but uh.” Quentin thought he’d gotten over the fucking stuttering. “Sorry I’m just stressed here but, I was just always friends with girls I guess.”

“That’s okay. My best friends my brother.”

“Older or younger?”

“Older, he’s 17.”

“So your twins?”

“No, were 5 years apart, Why would you think we’re twins?”

“Uh, my bad I guess. Do you mind If I go to class?”

“Okay.”

And Quentin was on his way. He later found out that her brother died in a car accident from Kady. Quentin was torn between being annoyed and expressing interest. Cripplingly shy and mysterious Alice Quinn seemed like someone elses nut to crack, but Quentin was intrigued. He’d also been forced to make a mental note, never offer to give Alice Quinn a light.

***

Later when Quentin went to therapy he noticed Dr. Fogg had shaved his whole beard, both his shoes tied with double knots.

“Got a date Fogg?”

He looked confused for a moment, but he supposed patients with at least some insight wasn't that rare of an occurrence.

“No, just a meeting with my boss. But let's focus on you, is there anything you wanna bring up today.”

“What keeps you from like, coping I guess. Like we do. What keeps you living?” Because if Eliot still wanted to play the game, he could play.

“It's hard sometimes, but you can find joy, beauty in everything. You don’t need addictions. There are many beautiful things.”

Quentin could have guessed Fogg's beautiful thing was bourbon based on his breath that morning, he decided to decline to comment.

“But what's the point, there's always going to be two horrible things for every good one. You can't control it, the worlds still gonna take from you, you can just choose to see the good.”.. _ Devil’s advocate is fun. _

“No Quentin, you can't. We can't choose to ignore every ugly thing we see in others, or ourselves, but we can better ourselves, and surround ourselves with those who are trying to better themselves. Do what makes you happy, like you Fillory books do.”

He thought about Eliot, he thought about Julia. 

“What if we love someone who doesn't make us better. Who won't get better.”

“Is there someone you want to talk about Quentin?”

“No.”

“This is a safe space. You can tell me about them.”

“No I can't.”

“Quentin if you want to make progress-”

He felt the tears begin to well up in his eyes. He smashed his fist down on the coffee table to quell them.

“I can't tell you about her.”

He was given some harder math homework to do that evening

***

Quentin went to Eliot's window. He didn't even think when he did it. But maybe that was all the better. He looked at him, his pleading eyes shone under the harsh fluorescent lighting. Eliot wasn’t used to being alone, like a parasite. Quentin knew because he was like that too sometimes, so maybe this was also for his own benefit, but he wasn’t cruel enough to leave Eliot by himself.

“Quentin, just leave, it was all stupid anyways.”

“No, it wasn't. Can I talk to you, please?”

He didn't say a word, just perched him head atop him knees. Quentin sat down anyway, even if he couldn't quite decipher his answer.

“I’ll tell you why I got sent here.”

“I already know you hurt yourself Quentin.”

“I never told you I why I did any of it though.”

Eliot pondered a moment, but fell prey to the temptation of gossip, and maybe a little too Quentin himself.

“Julia, who told you about, she always knew what to do. She was every good memory I had. When we got older, and less control I had over everything, she would take care of me, and I loved her. Not like she loved me though, I couldn't control that either.Then one day the girl who like, peeled the shells of acorns to make it easier for the squirrels, wasn't, anymore. That’s when I started getting and trouble.

She got this boyfriend Reynard, he was big and angry, older. He became her everything, she doesn't care about anything else. She was a genius, we were in gifted programs together since we could walk but, she just stopped coming to school a lot of the days. He didn't want her having friends, leaving her house. She had nothing left to love but him. That included me.

It was her birthday, she turned 16. We were at a pizza place with a few other people, she was always the popular one. She never left his arm. Then she started to eat a second slice. He grabbed him arm so tight I could feel it. She was so broken, she was so scared. And all I wanted was to take care of her, like she took care of me.

He took her to the back, I followed, he didn't see me. He hit her El, she started crying. He made her repeat what she'd learned, tossed her into the bathroom to fix herself before walking out smiling with his friends.”

“Quentin you don't have to do this..”

“A few days later I made her come see me. She was paranoid, constantly assuming he would he there, one step behind…

_ “Julia you need to stop, he hurts you!” _

_ “He loves me, all couples are like that, everyone fights.” _

_ “Not like that you have to listen, he could kill you Julia! You're smarter than this!” _

_ “Your just jealous of him!” _

_ “ What that he gets to hit you and do God knows what else. I know you Dad was an asshole but I thought you were too smart to fall for that shit!” _

_ She looked broken, betrayed. _

_ “How did you know about that Quentin.” _

_ “I-” _

_ “How!” _

_ “I followed you, at your birthday party.” _

_ “You shouldn't have done that Quentin”, she said it as almost a whisper. _

_ “Jules...” _

_ Her face twisted, him jaw dropping and shaking.  _

_ “You never call me that. Your're the only one who doesn't call me that.” _

_ Quentin realized in that moment why he loved her. Because they both knew what it was to have no control. Quentin gave into it, spiraling into sorrow. Julia tried to take care of him, let him be her thing to control, to fix. But you can't fix people, so she gave control to someone else. She gave everything of herself up someone cause they were willing to take it from her. _

_ “Do you think I loved you Quentin! You think I didn't know! Were obsessed with each other Q! Those fucking kids books! Fillory!” _

_ “Julia.” _

_ “I don't even know why I cared! First I had to coddle you as you wallowed in your self pity, then you get yourself caught by fucking cops! Why do any of it! you think I didn’t need you too! Now your getting sent to, ugh God knows!” _

_ “Julia I'm stupid I didn't know.” _

_ “Of course you did! Of course you knew! You’re just so hopeless without me there,you said you were over it! You've always had everyone taking care of you Quentin, I finally found someone to take care of me.” _

_ “He hurts you Julia, actually hurts you.” _

_ “You need to go.” _

_ “Julia.” _

_ “Now!” She screamed it. Then she bent down, grabbed can off the sidewalk to throw at him. “Get the hell out of my life Quentin! Just leave!” _

_ “Please-” _

_ “Go!” She finally threw it at him, she missed, she was so skinny now. But the fact she threw it all, it made Quentin realize why he lost faith in her, the very reason she lost it in him. You can't fix people, you can't fix yourself. _

_ “You can't fix me Quentin I don't,” she had to take a second, wheezing, “love you.”... _

“I was just done with all of it. Cutting, it helped sometimes. No one even knew about it until a couple got infected and I needed to go to the hospital. Was already set to start here because of a plea deal, better than psych ward I guess.”

“Quentin you didn't have to tell me all that.”

Quentin slid his hand into Eliot’s with a hitched breath, the yellow tubing from El’s nose tangling between their legs.

“The tubes? When you disappear sometimes? ”

“They thought I’d stay clean over break. Wouldn’t need to come back here at all.”

“But if they’re giving you tubes and meds, are you getting, I dunno, sicker?”

“No, I’m  _ really not. _ I’ve been on them before, it’s not something you should worry about. Just when everything shifts and I’m not with Bambi it gets a lot harder.”

“Bambi?”

“Her nickname. Margo. She would come to see her family in my town during summer, older we got she spent as much of the year down here as she could. The Hansons practically adopted me.”

“What’s she like?”

“Beautiful, she’d have nothing less. She’ll cut your balls off if you so much as look at her wrong.”

“Has she come to visit?”

“Not yet, she won’t. She shoved me here, said I needed to get my shit together. I ended up in the hospital a few times, they said it was enough to admit me somewhere, and as those places go, this is a pretty nice one. She’s kinda my soulmate.”

Slowly Quentin started drawing his hand away from Eliot’s, his strong limber hands, the kind a real magician would have.

“You don’t have to..she isn’t..”

“Sorry I-”

“I thought you were?.. You know what, save our overthinking for the therapy yeah?”

“Okay, yeah. Unless maybe it’s the reason or something.”

“What?”

_ Shit. _

“What it feels like, with a guy?”

“I’ve been with enough Quentin. It’s how I got most of my shit.”

“I’m just saying, sometimes we forget we can’t control things. It’s why you..”

“I got it Quentin.”

Before Eliot had kept up his sauve debochrate persona, but it was cracking. He was angry, so angry.

“When did you start?”

“Fifteen maybe?”

“Your family?”

“Margo. I wouldn't go through this for anyone else because dear God, I need a cigarette.”

“Quitting just, sucks.”

Eliot hummed in agreement before turning his head. “Yeah..I forgot to question ‘plea deal’?”

Quentin chuckled a little. “El, I’m a klepto. Serial shoplifting. Pick pocket, the works.”

“Your fucking with me.”

After that they were both laughing because of the two, Quentin was actually the only one with a rap sheet.

“Oh I definitely need to introduce you to Margo now. She's gonna love you Q.”

That letter settled warm in his chest.

“I always did magic tricks as a kid, sleight of hand stuff. Turns out it can be like, incredibly useful if you want it to be. My mental breakdowns tended to consist of stolen jewelry from that point on.”

“But you got caught.”

“I got caught.”

Eliot paused for a moment. “Okay are you gonna tell me what you stole or will I just have to grapevine that myself.”

“Pawn shop in Brooklyn.”

“Oo, gold chains? Engagement rings?”

“First Edition Fillory and Further.”

“Oh my fucking God.” Eliot laughed, burying his head in Quentins chest.

“The judge took some serious pity on my depressed, nerdy ass. Mostly because they think it was the only thing I stole.”

“I can see there are a lot of stories there.”

“Oh yes there are. Wait til I tell you about the time I robbed a sex shop.”

“Okay you're coming with me Coldwater.”

“Where?”

“My room, we’re hanging out for a bit.”

So they went to Eliot room without a door, far more decadent than Quentin would have imagined they allowed your room to be. His was still a couple of suitcases he occasionally opened.

He let himself settle into the conversational valley. All of it was just heavy, it felt appropriate to just relax, but it was as much as they could handle. Let those truths simmer, maybe joke about it, but mandanity was comforting in a way.

So Quentin rambled a bit about Fillory, Eliot talked about the crime against interior decorating he considered Brakebills to be (also when he was in his room, his accent came out way more, go figure), overall they just talked, and every once in awhile Quentin would brush Eliot’s hand and Eliot would playfully try to kick him off the bed. Quentin meanwhile crursed in his head that Brakebills dorms _ didnt have fucking doors. _

***

Eliot and Quentin weren’t a couple.

Couples already weren’t allowed, that was an easy answer. Collusion (friendship as it is referred to as by normal children) isn't even particularly encouraged. Isolation seemed to be the policy, one enforced pretty half-heartedly once the staff realized how much they actually hated teenagers. Might as well stick them with each other and call it therapy. Or give them more homework, it was usually more homework.

“Quentin can’t you please just help me with  _ one _ chapter?” Kady whined.

“You realize you’ll actually get tested right? And then your fucked? I’ll teach you if that’s what you want.”

“How is your court mandated ass above  _ cheating _ .”

“Since I get juvie if I get kicked out?”

“It’s really not that bad. You’d be fine.”

Penny started laughing. “Yeah with that haircut. All hardened criminals will know to fear the name  _ Quentin. _ ”

“Like you’d be better off. You're literally wearing like 50 bracelets right now”

“You wear uniforms in prison idiot. Besides, I usually don't end up among the general prison population.”

“Good thing you got all the voices to keep you company.”

Penny flipped him off and scowled, Kady gave up on the homework.

“Well if your not going to tell me the answers at least give me the gossip.”

“The hell would I know?”

“Somehow you made a friend. True with one of the addicts, but yea. Why? How?”

“Why are you so surprised I socialize outside of our little ‘recovery circle’?”

“You want an honest answer to that  _ Chatwin _ .”

“We met on the first day, we get along.”

“What you guys fags or something?” Penny snickered without looking up from his paper.

“Me and Eliot had a deal going and seriously? Fuck off dude.” 

Kady kicked Penny in the shin so Quentin would have to.

“Deal? Please tell me that addict bastard knows how to get fucking  _ anything _ in here.”

“No he was just being nice to me.”

“Is this going to involve like, thoughts and feelings and shit?” Penny whined.

“He wanted me to get my shit together and find something good about the world.”

“Oh they are so gay for each other.”

“Shut up Penny!” Kady said, not so playful. Quentin was impressed, and Kady shrugged at him.

“So if you and Eliot are ‘just friends’, got any plans for your shadow?”

“Who?”

“Alice! She's been stalking you for like a week. Maybe you should steal her something nice. D _ efinitely  _ steal her something.”

“What part of my ass getting thrown into juvie  _ don't  _ you understand?”

“Fine Klepto, but don't pretend you never tried it.”

Penny laughed as Quentin turned red.

“Oh Coldwater definitely tried that shit.”

“Well only like, twice.Though I did get a blowjob in exchange for a tag gun once..” he face palmed as soon as he said it. 

“Yeah those happy pills they give you give you no shame Coldwater.”

“Remind me again why we're friends?”

“Cause Kadys hot?”

“Hey don't pimp me out!”

“Cause _I'm_ hot and your a queer?”

“Penny!”

“Honestly I think it's just proximity and lack of options.”

“Was that so hard to say the first time Pen?”

“Impossibly”

He wrapped his arms around her from behind and started kissing her neck. She giggled and turned back at him. As the lady who was supposed to be watching them pulled them apart Quentin thought about Eliot. A little about Alice too.

***

“Hey are we a thing?” Quentin asked in the middle of a conversation.

“What do you mean?” Eliot said, as his too-tall frame hung off the bed.

“I guess, do you like me?”

“Of course I like you. Why else would you be in my room, occasionally handing me a puke bucket?”

Yeah, that part was kinda gross, but withdrawal sucks ass. Also not what Quentin was getting at.

“People were talking about us, that's all.”

“Were they threatening you?”

“No. Just Penny and Kady being assholes. Well Penny being an asshole..”

“I've heard this rant before Q.”

“Yeah right. Anyway they didn't really.” Quentin wasn't sure why he added. “They think Alice likes me.”

“The mute one?”

“She's not  _ totally _ mute.”

“Maybe I shouldn't have led with that. How about sets small animals on fire?”

“Shit I thought she just burned down a shed or something.”

“Yeah she did. And a whole lot of other sheds. The small animals bit is just speculation but she's a certified pyro.”

“But she seems so.. quaint? What's like, a less offensive word.”

“Who knows, maybe she's reformed. Maybe you should go for it.”

“Why would I?”

“To be blunt, based on your account of your sexual history, your into damaged chicks.”

“You mean my two girlfriends, neither of which lasted for longer than 3 months?”

“Exactly. You want to get over Julia don't you?”

“Not really..”

Eliot raised his eyebrows.

“I mean I don't think I should date her. I just don't want to like, forget about her entirely just because she's not here. Or something. Once I get out I’m just going after Reynard.”

“Look at you, working the system. Minus the avenging shit. Your therapist like that?” Eliot teased.

Quentin punched him in the ribs. Eliot threw up again.

“Fogg doesn't get to hear about Julia. You're the only one who knows about Julia outside of well, Julia. But Fogg, do you ever, like talk to him?”

“We all talk to him Q.”

“But actually. Not talking in circles or lying.”

“You mean you want me to  _ not _ do those things?”

“If you get better, then yeah.”

“I'm not that bad Q.”

Quentin looked at Eliot. His eyes were red rimmed and his throat burned. No wonder Margo sent him here. He elected to change the subject.

“What do they mean when they say field trip?”

“Oh God is it that time of the month again? Basically we wander into the real world and usually end up at a museum or shitty diner. It exhilarating.”

“It sounds like it could be fun.”

“Going outside? Hell no.”

“You mean your not stir-crazy? It’s so quiet here.”

“Uh-huh city boy. For reference it's usually quiet like, everywhere else.”

“City boy? Really? I don’t think your one to talk.”

“How so Q?”

“Wait where  _ are _ you from?”

“Irrelevant.”

“C’mon it can't be that big of a secret. I could ask Margo if I want.”

“How?”

“Don’t you write letters? I should send her one.”

“You want to talk to Bambi. Through  _ snail mail _ .”

“Actually yes. I feel like we probably need friends that aren’t you know, criminals.”

“Okay.” Eliot said faster than Quentin expected him too. “Now let me play dress up.”

So Quentin stayed still as Eliot dressed him in too tight clothes that somehow made him miss the uniform, and it all thoroughly distracted him from the fact he left the room with more questions and anxiety than he’d entered it with.

***

_ Martin walked alongside the old witch towards the torrent. He was supposed to be the king of it, or at least Rupert was. He considered himself Fillorian anyways, not a king. Fillory was who it really belonged to. _

_ “Witch, I don’t see why we’re going here. We have no wounds to heal, wouldn't it just be selfish?” _

_ “Sometimes selfish things aren’t meant to be tainted with guilt Martin.” _

_ “But why do people take things that don’t belong to them?” _

_ “Simple, they want them. People are extraordinary at wanting things.” _

_ “But they always get taken from someone else, why don’t they learn their lesson?” _

_ “They should. But were taking something that belongs to Fillory. It’s yours, this you can take.” _

_ “But what for?” _

_ “To help Fillory. To help you, let you stay here forever.” _

_ “I didn’t mean to kill the butterflies.” Martin whispered. The witch grabbed his shoulder with a gnarled finger. _

_ “I know this child, don’t be foolish now.” _

_ Brooding and quick they stumbled over cobblestone paths towards the torrent. Its water were supposed to cure you of any ailment. A true untamed, wild Fillorian wonder. Martin shivered as he was promoted to swim in it as the old Witch went to gather herbs along the path nearby. They didn’t leave with any water, and Martin was left wondering why the witch had taken him there in the first place, for he felt no better than he did before. _

_ *** _

Everyone crammed into a white van, and soon the Students of Brakebills were on their way to a field trip. Kady and Penny placed bets on where they would go. Unnecessary monument, the land of cubicles to teach us about real jobs, or scared straight. Quentin  _ really  _ hoped it wasn’t scared straight.

He’d done something vaguely resembling it when he was 15. He’d stolen a bottle of kahlua from a whole foods and dearest Grandma Coldwater had found it half drunk under his mattress. It was clearly stolen, and he was drinking off some crush (which funnily enough wasn’t Julia), so his Dad called his Pastor. Quentin then spent a weekend wandering around a morgue looking at OD’d corpses or listening to sobbing mothers crying over arrested children. He didn’t go to church much after that, not like he ever did anyways. It wasn’t really scarring, mostly boring and uncomfortable.

Quentin traced lazy circles on top of Eliot’s hand in the way back seats as the group pulled up to their destination. Well shit, the gang was about to learn everything they needed to know about the culture and history of rural fucking Vermont. There was not much to know about rural Vermont.

Basically it was founded by a french dude and was a union state. Eliot and Penny (Both southerners in deep denial) got to learn that up North it's  _ not _ called the war of Northern Aggression? Civil War people, even though both names kinda suck. Kady was threatening to knock over some 80 year old basket weaving impersonator when Alice quickly tugged Quentin away.

“Hi Quentin.”

“Hey Alice. You uh, liking the trip?”

“Apparently the town founder married a 14 year old.”

“Jesus.”

“1800s Hicksville, what did you expect?”

“I don't know, I mostly just looked at the old pictures. All the grass and trees, it reminds me of-”

“Fillory? It's kinda just any old farm though.”

“You can really tell I come from Brooklyn cant you?”

“Quentin I could tell you were a New Yorker the first time I saw you go down a sidewalk.”

Quentin ruffled his hand in his hair and laughed. “Yeah I guess. What did you want to ask me?”

“It’s just this stupid thing Fogg wants me to do and you really dont have to but-”

“I’m sure it’s fine.” Quentin interrupted, kinda exhausted. What do you need help with?”

“Fogg wants me to get better about uh talking? To strange people? I know you tutor so I thought I could maybe- help you?.. Fogg said he’d give me starbursts and I’d share.”

“Oh um, sure. I could actually probably use it, more people started asking. Yeah Alice, totally.”

“Okay.” She said started and quick before darting off to another exhibit. Quentin took his sweet time perusing the gift shop while the chaperones watched him like a hawk. He didn’t even feel like stealing anything from here, he just liked wasting their time. Eliot joined him pretty quick, apparently any mention of farmland made him gag.

“Is Baby Q going to need a pat down when we finally get out of here?”

“Maybe don’t give them any more reason to be suspicious?”

“Why? Did you already sneak mouse a present?”

“Fuck off El.”

Eliot leaned down to whisper in his ear, breath hot on his neck.

“You wanna leave?”

“Oh, can we go back to the car now?”

“No.”

Eliot dragged him by the wrist, and pulled them into a bathroom. He summarily ignored Questions muttered protest before locking them in a stall. Quentin prepared himself to give a blowjob or get beat up, that was usually how situations like this ended.

“I don't want to keep going. I just want to leave! Let’s run away.” He said pointing towards a window.

“El I know it sucks right now but your fucking killing yourself. Your doing this for Margo. Now pick a pretty thing.”

“What?”

“The game, find some good in the world? I need some help, so you need to tell me some good things right now.”

“Patrick Sweazy.”

“What the hell, sure.”

“No thats, not..”

“Hey, what's freaking you out right now?”

“I um, we go to a diner, after this and I _ can't. _ I can't in front of you Quentin. At school I can hide but these fucking feild trips I  _ can't.” _

“Hey, El? Your freaking yourself out. I don't care, whatever your deal is. I won't even sit with you if you don't want that. You make the rules today okay?”

“Okay..”

So Quentin lead Eliot out of that bathroom and the class left for a shithole dinner where he orders chicken tenders because why the fuck not, and watched Eliots knuckles go white over the menu.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Queers.” Penny muttered. Kady kicked him again.  _ You want to get in my pants you better enlighten the fuck up Penny.  _ Quentin definitely liked Kady.

“Can I punch him?” Eliot murmured.

“I would advise against it.”

“But it’s more bloody and straightforward.”

“So was my wrists and we’ve agreed that was a poor choice huh?”

“Q..”

“Okay yeah that might have been a bit far but still, don’t beat up Penny, he’d probably win.”

It was the kind of that that usually would have made Eliot laugh, but right now didn’t. Quentin buried his vague annoyance beneath the concern and pity he knew Eliot would wring his neck over. One of the chaperones came to sit next to them. Her dress reeked so badly of cigarette smoke Quentin was left feeling weirdly homesick, and also once again cursing he had to quit for  _ this shit _ . She talked sickly sweet, but seems to have grown bored of the persona.

Eliot ordered spaghetti and meatballs, a joke Quentin expected he never got, and food came rather quickly once the waitstaff found out this wasn't a traditional summer camp or nothin. Eliot sat staring at his plate, having clearly lost his appetite.

“Hey you okay El?”

“He’s fine.” The lady interjected.

Tentatively Eliot started to twirl the pasta on his fork, and Quentin figured he would turn his focus Penny swatting at a fly Kady had to tell him wasn’t there. Eliot started eating ravenously once Quentin looked away, chewing everything to fast and too much, the woman grabbing his hand to slow him down. No one at the table really knew what this meant, although they were inclined to pretend they didn’t notice for Els sake. After they awkwardly loaded into the van and Quentin and Eliot stayed silent on the ride back. It wasn’t until they got to Eliot’s room either of them said anything.

“El should I be worried?”

“Why would you be?” He said with a bite, his eyes cast towards the floor.

“Like El.. shit do they feed you at home? I’m not letting you go back.”

“I was never going to go back anyway.”

“I’m not letting you leave here if your just going to wander off and get into God knows what-”

“Hey.” Eliot said rather sternly. “This shit, not your problem, and in the nicest way possible. I’m moving in with Margo when I get out of here, and if that doesn’t work out I can handle the system. Let’s be super fucking clear on the fact you also don’t have the whole story here.”

“But I want to help you.”

“Now. You want to help me  _ now.” _

“El I’m your friend.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t God..I’m just saying for your sake,  _ please _ don't worry about this.”

“I don’t even know what's wrong with you!” and the choice of words made Eliot's face sour.

“Look Q, this is a problem I’m really not down to discuss right now. Do trust you but, not with this.”

“I told  _ you _ about Julia.”

“ _ And I didn’t ask you too. _ Look I’m allowed to have boundaries, and I don’t want to put this on you.”

“I can handle it, I want to help you!”

“Q, you needed a stupid game to think of something pretty. I mean come on?” Eliot said reaching for Quentin’s pocket.

“Hey!”

“You really wanna pretend it’s empty?”

Quentin opened his mouth to protest, then brudgilgly he slammed the diners bell on the bed.

“Q, go find me some more pretty things yeah? I’ll bring you some bubblegum or something before lights out.”

Quentin had some trouble finding pretty things as he felt there was a perfectly valid one right in front of him. Eliot slid the pack of gum through the doorway, and walked away before he could say anything.

***

“Trouble in paradise?”

“Fuck off Kady.”

This tutoring gig was getting to be more trouble than it was worth. Oh well, at least now he had Alice, and her starbursts. Quentin tossed a cherry one in his mouth, and didn’t offer one to anybody else.

“Your in a sour mood. Don’t you know were lucky to be here?” She said fluttering her eyelashes before imitation gagging.

“I do prefer this over juvie you know.”

“It's cute how you think you would have actually ended up there.”

“I stole shit just like you broke shit.”

“Your names  _ Quentin _ .”

“The quadratic formula!”

“C’mon we can take a five minute break. This place is so fucking boring and theres literally no..well..almost no advatages to the uniform.”

“I kinda like them actually.”

“I like that whenever any of these bitches bend over I can see all the way to Venezuela in this pathetic excuse for a skirt, but then same rule applies to me. My thirst for drama still stands.”

“Aren’t you and Penny like.. _ the  _ drama?”

“I care about him, and he's not a bad lay.”

“Seriously _ where _ are yall two hooking up in here.”

“Looking for suggestions?”

“God fuck off.”

“I think your the only person here whos still a virgin Q-bert.”

Quentin wrinkled up is nose and did one of the problems for her, because he really felt like moving this along.

“I just want to say I’m sorry. I know it can seem like everyones on an even playing field here but we're really not. He’s on a feeding tube for christs sake, we just stole and broke things.”

“ _ Just _ stole and broke things?”

“You think I have an idea what it’s like in Penny’s head? He can’t even tell me, it's incredibly dangerous for him to do that. When he sees things that scare him, he can’t describe them, or point them out to me, cause if I ‘look’ at them, it gets so much harder for him to pull apart his hallucinations and the real world. They become  _ part  _ of the real world if I interact with them at all. It’s something I’m not even sure if I could handle long term if I’m honest.”

‘Wait.. you're going to break up with him?”

“No that’s not what I’m saying. What I’m saying is Eliot might need more space then we do if he wants to get better. Just keep your head down.”

“You realize your a giant hypocrite.”

“I tried with my mom forever. She still..just maybe let him have his time, it won’t do any harm anyway.”

Quentin awkwardly shifted in his chair, and scribbled a few more answers on Kady’s page. At this moment, as Kady bit her lip and Quentin bubbled in the rest of her answers, Kady told him about one of the many secluded spots in the school he hadn't noticed before. She then suggested they might be able to focus better there.

Quentin had been told many times in his life he was a bad influence. He’d been told many more that he was a plain old bad person. As he walked out from behind the shed, hair tousled and swollen lipped, it felt good, which was an unintended consequence. Confrontation probably could have been avoided. This however was made impossible by a very particular and unreasonably random interception.

Our group of friends, Quentin, Eliot, Kady, Penny, and Alice, woke up in an alien spaceship.

Life is predictably unpredictable. Aliens, apparently, are no exception. Penny was the first to wake, and hadn't really thought anything of it, on account of hallucinations being his status quo. Alice came too next, and was predictably mute, however managers to startle Quentin awake. He suddenly missed his dorm room.

“ _ What the fuck?” _

**Author's Note:**

> hi i wrote this forever ago and since i just got back in school and deprived everyone of update on little shop of horrors (please do check it out!) i figured fuck it, i'll post. Please tell me what you thought or tags I should add, commenst are the most wonderful thing! I also ended like this because its the most me way to 'end' a story ever. lemme know if y'all want the end! this was mostly inspired by trinkets on netflix btw!


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